THE CONDITIONS OF RICHARD’S IMPRISONMENT improved considerably after he’d come to final terms with Heinrich. He was given greater freedom, no longer kept under such smothering surveillance, allowed to meet in private with his friends and new German allies, and to conduct affairs of state; he’d even sent to England for his favorite falcons, having been promised he’d be able to go hawking and hunting. Heinrich also released the last of his men and Baldwin de Bethune was warmly welcomed at Worms. The Germans were impressed by the constant stream of visitors from England, men of rank and authority making an arduous journey to pledge their loyalty to their captive king, and word soon reached the French court that Richard was being treated more like a guest now than a prisoner.
Philippe was stunned by the news of the Worms settlement, outraged that Heinrich had played him for a fool, making him believe his offer would be accepted. He was horrified, too, once he realized Richard’s release seemed imminent. He was shaken enough to agree to a truce with England when he met on July 9 with Richard’s chancellor, Guillaume de Longchamp, and his justiciar, William Briwerre, hoping to hold on to the gains he’d made during Richard’s captivity.
He also sent an urgent message to his ally and coconspirator. When John read that terse warning—“Look to yourself; the Devil is loosed”—he at once fled to France.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JULY 1193
Rome, Italy
The Lady Mariam was seated on a marble bench in the Frangipani family’s palace on the Palatine. The sun was at its zenith, but the heat did not bother Mariam, who’d grown up in Sicily. She was waiting for the queens to return from the papal palace. In recent weeks the Pope had been too busy to see them whenever they’d requested an audience. While Berengaria still clung to her faith in the Holy Father, Joanna had given up all hope and his evasiveness infuriated her almost as much as his lack of action, for there was nothing she could do about either. This sudden summons by the Pope had excited them both, convincing them that it meant he’d gotten news about Richard. Mariam did not share their optimistic certainty that the news must be good; no Sicilian harbored any illusions about the Emperor Heinrich.
Mariam would be happy for Joanna and Berengaria’s sake if the Pope did indeed have encouraging word about Richard’s plight, but she knew it was unlikely that he’d have heard anything about the man who mattered to her, Joanna’s Welsh cousin Morgan. As soon as she’d found out that Richard had ventured into enemy territory with only twenty men, she’d been sure Morgan was one of them, and her suspicions had been confirmed by the de Préaux brothers, Guilhem, Jean, and Pierre. After parting from Richard in Corfu, they’d made their way to Sicily, and were heading home to Normandy when they’d learned of the king’s capture. They at once changed plans, determined to join Richard in Germany. They’d stopped in Rome long enough, though, to tell Richard’s women about his ill-fated journey from the Holy Land.
Joanna and Berengaria had lavished praise upon them for their loyalty, but Mariam had listened in silence, wondering why male priorities were so hard to fathom. The Préaux brothers were putting their king before their own anxious families back in Normandy, and she did not see that as admirable. She was still resentful that Morgan had chosen to sail with Richard rather than with her, and for a time her relationship with Joanna had suffered. But the two women were as close as any two sisters could be, and Mariam had realized she must let her grievance go. Richard was Joanna’s brother, the one who’d rescued her from captivity, so it was only to be expected that she’d love him dearly and his safety would be of paramount importance to her. Mariam reminded herself, too, that Morgan need not have done as Joanna requested, but that brought her back to the baffling subject of male honor.
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she started when a cold nose was thrust into her hand. Smiling at the sight of Ahmer, the cirneco that had been her brother’s favorite hound, she fondled his fox-like red ears, remembering William’s pleasure and the horror of his Muslim physician when she’d smuggled the dog into his bedchamber during his final illness. Thoughts of William invariably made her sad for what might have been. If only his and Joanna’s infant son had lived. If only he’d not married Constance off to Heinrich von Hohenstaufen, giving Heinrich a claim to the Sicilian crown. If only he’d not been so stubborn, ignoring the protests of his subjects, who’d sooner have allied with Lucifer than the German emperor. He’d always been a good brother to her and she thought he’d been a good husband to Joanna, despite keeping a harim of Saracen slave girls as his father and grandfather had done. But he’d not been a good king.